


Lucid Dreams

by lunaillumina



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaillumina/pseuds/lunaillumina
Summary: “Let's do a magic trick, Saihara-chan.”“On the count of three…”“...you won't ever forget about me.”





	Lucid Dreams

Is he in a dream? Maybe he is, maybe he’s not. You’ll never really know if you’re dreaming until you wake up. But surely, this is a dream. He’s a detective, so he knows this. He’ll even lay down the evidence to prove it.

 

First of all, he knows this place. The metal bars stretching out in the distance, the ongoing construction, the classrooms (the regular ones and the specialized ones), the ominous feeling of being constantly watched...Yeah, he knows it alright. After all, this was the setting for his nightmare.

 

But that nightmare was so long ago. Two, no, three years? Either way, that place is gone now. No way to see it again nor go there. Just another bad memory to try to forget.

 

Secondly, how many times has it been now? This isn’t the first time he’s unfortunate enough to be visited by this dream. The first year, he really hated it. Night after night after night, he would wake up in a jolt, covered in sweat. And the details of the dream stayed, unlike the others that are gone the moment he opens his eyes. It stayed until the loop runs to remind him once again. Lack of sleep and mental-emotional stress combined, he thought he would go crazy if it continued any further.

 

His friends weren’t any help. Well, there weren’t much they could do anyway aside from offering words of consolation, which he really appreciated.

 

 _“What was it about?”_ They ask, but he couldn’t tell them. There’s no way he could tell them. No real reason, but he just couldn’t. Probably he was just afraid of what they will think of him.

 

It had something to do with his third evidence, who’s currently staring at him with that sinister, childish smile, waiting for him to look back and meet his deceivingly doe, purple eyes. Being stared at like this was unsettling, but it’s been too many a times that he has built up some immunity. Kind of.

 

The first few times was too shocking that he immediately woke up after seeing the face of the person in front of him.

 

See, there’s no way it could be real.

 

 _“Why are you here?”_ He remembered asking one time when the shock has subsided and they were actually having a decent conversation after a number of times. It was a vague question, but something that he really needed answers to.

 

 _“I don’t know, you tell me, Saihara-chan. Why do you keep calling me each and every day? I’ve got looooooooooooots of things to do, you know! I’m a Supreme Leader, after all.”_ The smaller boy in front of him pouted, every word spouted with an exaggeration that only he could produce.

 

 _“I didn’t call you. This is just a dream.”_ Saihara deadpanned, unaffected by the other’s lies. It was nothing new.

 

 _“Dream? But this is real life, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma sing-sang, closing his eyes for effect.

 

_“No, it’s not. It can’t be.”_

 

 _“Oh? And why is that?”_ The Supreme Leader asked slowly, taking the tone whenever he’s leading someone to discover the answer he wanted them to see. Why he goes about it in such a roundabout way instead of just saying the truth, Saihara doesn’t really know. He never really understood him.

 

 _“Because you’re...dead...”_ His voice trailed off into silence, as if afraid of that last word. As if he will summon it if he said it any louder.

 

 _“Ping-pong! As expected of my beloved Saihara-chan!”_ Ouma cheered in praise, looking at Saihara with sparkling eyes. But that expression simmered down into downcast eyes and a small, bitter smile.

 

_“That’s right, I’m already--”_

 

Then he woke up.

 

His nights were dreamless ever since then, with the occasional nonsensical whatnot. It was peaceful, yet hollow. The feeling of emptiness lingering at the back of his thoughts even as he go about his daily life as a student.

 

But the silence was short-lived, a certain purple-haired boy haunting his dreams once again at irregular schedules. Invading his subconscious with random chatter and the games he kept on imposing on him. It's like he was living in two different worlds, divided only when he's awake and when he's not.

 

It was as surreal as dreams can be. Mostly they just talk--he figured he might as well humor the Supreme Leader than just let him perform a one-sided conversation. It was surprisingly...okay. They must have said more things to each other in the past year than they did in the game. He also got to observe Ouma in such close proximity and discovered personal things about him one exposed lie at a time, although he could never scratch enough to see beyond the surface.

 

It wasn't all fun and games though. There are times when the mood was different; melancholic and somber. Just like the last one before.

 

It started out differently, Ouma walking in front of him as he idly followed for the lack of anything better to do. The air was quiet around the metallic walls surrounding them. It was an eerie hallway that knocked deep into his memories. He was about to speak but the smaller boy beat him to it.

 

 _“I’m really sorry, Saihara-chan. Don't worry, just one more and it will all be over.”_ Ouma told him, still not facing him.

 

What does that mean? He didn't respond.

 

The huge mechanical press caught his eye when they arrived at their destination, and it all came back to him. It was the hangar. How could he possibly forget about this place? Just being there, he could smell the nauseating scent of blood that was nowhere to be found. He watched as Ouma sauntered over to the open press, sitting down casually.

 

 _“Let’s do something different today, Saihara-chan.”_ The other said with a wide smile that's too misplaced in the growingly tense atmosphere.

 

_“Ouma-kun, this--”_

 

 _“Hmmm, I don't feel like playing any games right now.”_ Ouma interrupted him with his loud voice.

 

 _“Hey--”_ Saihara held out his hand, taking a step closer to the press. He didn't know why, but everything felt off. His stomach twisted into more knots the longer he watched Ouma sitting casually on the press. _'Just get out from there!’_ , he wanted to shout, but the smaller boy wasn't letting him.

 

 _“Oh, I know!”_ Ouma exclaimed excitedly, suddenly appearing to be half-naked, a lone maroon coat hanging from his shoulders loosely. When did he…?

 

Right then, a mechanical sound resounded in the room. It was the sound of the press slowly coming down. Saihara couldn't help but to gulp anxiously, confusion and panic rapidly clouding his mind. Yet, Ouma didn't seem to notice what was going on as he continued speaking.

 

 _“Let's do a magic trick, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma gave him a toothy grin, but his eyes were telling something else.

 

Slowly, slowly coming down.

 

_“On the count of three…”_

 

Closer and closer.

 

Then their eyes met, and he knew--with those clear eyes and small smile--that at that moment, Ouma was the realest he ever was.

 

_“...you won't ever forget about me.”_

 

And the press shut down completely.

 

He couldn't remember what he did back then, but he shouted something. Maybe Ouma's name or something like that. All he could recall was the shock that gripped him motionless on the spot, piercing through his heart like an irrefutable bullet.

 

He woke up with a scream that night, jolting towards the bathroom to release the acid rising in his throat. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the shaking of his hands and the quiver in his lips as tears rolled down his face. The metallic scent, the quick and subtle sound of bones being crushed only to fade into an eerie silence, Ouma's last words--all of it made him feel extremely nauseous and his heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vise.

 

He didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, or the night after that, and for many nights to come. The only rest he got was from him dozing off into class due to fatigue, to which he got called out a number of times. He was all kinds of tired and it was like he was drifting from daydream to daydream, all concerning a certain purple-haired boy. Every time he closes his eyes, he’s there, but as soon as he opens them, he’s gone. A constant reminder of the universe that he was, in fact, losing his sanity.

 

Now here he was, face to face with the culprit. It took a few seconds for their extreme proximity to register to him, feeling the other's breath on his face.

 

 _“Ahh!”_ He yelped in surprise, pushing the boy in front of him a little too hard than he intended.

 

Ouma stared at him with wide eyes before breaking into a loud cry.

 

 _“You're so mean, Saihara-chan!”_ Ouma bawled, rubbing his eyes as tears continuously poured down his cheeks.

 

 _“I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--”_ He was compelled to apologize even though he can already guess that it was probably just a facade.

 

 _“I l-love you, you know...But you just pushed me away…”_ The smaller boy sniffed quietly, hiding his face with his palms.

 

 _“Eh? Ouma-kun…”_ He moved closer to the crying boy, gently caressing the shaking shoulders in front of him.

 

Of course, it's not like he didn't know better. It was all probably an act, but he still wanted to give what little consolation he can. He didn't know about the love part (most probably just a lie), but he did do nothing but push the boy away whenever he comes closer to him. Maybe that's why they were here right now in the first place. Back then, if he was the one who reached out…

 

While he was getting lost in his own thoughts, Ouma peeked at him through the gaps in his fingers and decided it was probably time to do the same old act.

 

 _“I~diot! It’s just a lie!”_ He exclaimed, pushing Saihara with equal vigor. _“I actually really,_ **_really_ ** _hate Saihara-chan! You really think a Supreme Leader like me will fall for the likes of you? Hah, in your dreams!”_

 

The whole charade was successful enough to pull him away from his thoughts, focusing once again on the grinning boy before him.

 

 _“Ah...Haha...Right...”_ He responded with less enthusiasm that pales in comparison to Ouma’s. Lie or not, his heart clenched at the words. There’s probably some truth in them.

 

Ouma’s features flipped to a stoic one, staring at him blankly.

 

 _“What’s with you? You’re so boring today.”_ He huffed in disappointment, turning his back on the taller boy. _“I don’t wanna play with you if you’re like this.”_

 

His arm instinctively reached out, catching the other’s hand with his own before he could even walk away from him. Ouma stopped in his tracks, slowly turning his head to give Saihara a surprised look.

 

 _“Ah…U-umm, I--Sorry--”_ He stumbled on his words, feeling the heat of embarrassment slowly rise to his cheeks. His hand loosened, ready to retreat to his side, but was suddenly gripped hard by Ouma’s smaller ones.

 

 _“I didn’t take you for the bold type. Nishishi~ You’re really so interesting, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma cooed, not caring if he contradicted himself as he moved closer, intertwining their fingers. _“If you wanted to hold hands, you should’ve just said so earlier.”_ He whispered lowly, peering up at the detective with half-lidded eyes.

 

Saihara was at a complete loss for words. This was definitely a side of Ouma he had never seen before, and definitely had not expected him to have. All the childishness was stripped away, reminding him that Ouma was the same age as him, and that he’s…

 

His fingers tightened around the thinner ones in between, feeling the heat radiating from them.

 

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Ouma tilted his head in question.

 

 _“You’re...here. You’re really here.”_ Saihara slowly said, as if confirming it to himself.

 

_“Yep.”_

 

The events of his last dream flashed through his mind and he gave out a chuckle, pulling his hand back to his side.

 

 _“Why do you lie like this...?”_ He muttered under his breath, refusing to meet Ouma’s gaze. _“Why are you doing this? Appearing in my dreams...it hurts...”_

 

Suffocating silence surrounded them for a few moments and he was afraid that Ouma is probably gone when he raises his head. But he wasn’t, he was still there, staring blankly at him.

 

 _“You’re wrong, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma was the first one to break the ice. _“Why do_ **_you_ ** _lie like this to yourself? Why are_ **_you_ ** _doing this to yourself? Dreams are manifestations of our subconscious. You know I’m already dead, so why do you hurt yourself like this?”_

 

The words were sharper than any sword or knife he had ever encountered, piercing through his insides. He knows all of that already, he just wanted to shift the blame to anyone who will take it.

 

 _“W-what should I do, Ouma-kun?”_ He choked out on a sob, tears burning on the edge of his eyes as he clutched his chest.

 

 _“I don’t know. Why are you asking me?”_ Ouma nonchalantly shrugged. _“Look at you--you’re like what, six feet tall or something? And yet you’re crying like a little kid. You’re so pathetic.”_

 

Saihara didn’t know what to feel getting scolded by Ouma Kokichi, of all people. Ironically, despite telling lies 90% of the time, it’s just as easy for him to spout the truth without hesitation and be frank with his words. What he preferred between the two sides, he doesn’t know.

 

_“The truth is hard to swallow. It’s ugly and it hurts. That's why I prefer lies. They're comforting and pleasant. Don't you think so too?”_

 

Saihara wiped his damp cheeks with his palms, looking up to see Ouma staring at him expectantly.

 

 _“I don't like lying to other people.”_ He answered with a hoarse voice. Expecting an insult from the other, he was surprised to hear a hearty laugh instead.

 

 _“As expected of Saihara-chan! I didn't fall in love with you for nothing!”_ Ouma clapped at him with praise. _“That was a test. If you actually agreed to that, I would've hated you. I hate liars, you know.”_

 

He wanted to comment on why he always says that when he himself lies all the time, but thought otherwise. Instead, he let out a light chuckle.

 

 _“So I guess you're all cheered up now?_ Ouma asked as he put his hands behind his head _. “I make you cry a lot, huh? You'd probably prefer if Akamatsu-chan was the one appearing in your dreams. Then you guys can all be gay and talk about happiness or something.”_

 

 _“No, this...this is fine.”_ Saihara gave a small smile. _“I'm glad you're here, Ouma-kun.”_

 

Ouma's eyes widened at him, and he was suddenly worried if he said something wrong.

 

 _“You're such a bad liar, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma scoffed, turning his back on him.

 

 _“It's not a lie.”_ He retorted without hesitation.

 

_“Uh huh. Whatever. You've got guts lying to me, the Supreme Leader himself! I shall have you executed on the spot just for that. I'll have your head on a spi--”_

 

 _“I'm not lying!”_ Saihara exclaimed, finding the exchange quite familiar.

 

 _“Alright, alright, I know. Geez, no need to yell. I already know I'm the one you miss the most because you love me, right? Right? Riiiiiight?”_ Ouma was all over him all of a sudden, leaning into his face with sparkling eyes.

 

 _“I-I don't know._ ” Saihara could only answer weakly as his face heated up at their proximity once again. It's amazing how he completely forgot about what happened in his last dream and how they've reverted back to their usual routine.

 

Ouma pouted at him. _“Boo. You're no fun. Oh well. So what do you want to do today, Saihara-chan? Wanna get beaten at chess again?”_

 

 _“Actually, can we just...talk?”_ The detective asked shyly, following the other's steps.

 

 _“...Talk?”_ Ouma turned to him mid-walk, raising his brow as if he grew another head.

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“Like 'talk’ talk?”_

 

_“Y-yeah.”_

 

 _“Hmm...Okay.”_ The smaller boy shrugged. _“I know the best place. But only if you catch me!”_ He suddenly sprinted into a run, stunning the detective as he left him in the dust. He watched for a few seconds as Ouma entered the school building, disappearing from his sight. Only then did he realize that he had to run after him.

 

_“Ouma-kun, wait!”_

 

He did his best to keep up with the smaller boy as they ascended the stairs to the upper floors of the building, barely catching his breath as they reached the fifth floor. He trudged inside Amami's room where he had last seen Ouma disappear to. Scanning the dark room, he noticed a ladder going up a hole in the ceiling. Despite the numerous questions he had in mind, he climbed up.

 

The clear blue sky welcomed him as soon as he reached the top, the strong wind embracing his entire body. It was the rooftop of the school building that he never knew was accessible. Ouma was standing a few steps away, back turned to him. His hair swayed wildly with the wind, and his white clothes seemed like it was fading along with the background. Saihara felt the urge to run and grab the smaller boy--grasp what he can just to stop him from disappearing. Given, it left him confused.

 

 _“Ahhhh, this place is the best!”_ Ouma shouted, lying down with his hands behind his head. Saihara was left with no choice but to sit beside him.

 

 _“How did you find about this place?”_ The other quipped, glancing down at his classmate.

 

_“Amami-chan told me.”_

 

 _“Eh? Amami-kun? How and when exactly did he tell you?”_ Saihara raised his brow in question.

 

 _“Telepathy.”_ Ouma answered in a heartbeat.

 

 _“What…?”_ He could only ask dumbly.

 

Ouma gave him a dry look as if saying he expected better, and rolled his eyes. _“It’s a lie. It’s like you don’t even know me, Saihara-chan.”_

 

 _“Well, that’s debatable.”_ The taller boy muttered.

 

 _“_ _Touché._ _”_ Ouma relented with a scoff.

 

It was quiet as they just sat there, Ouma lying down and him staring far into the distance.

 

He never imagined he’d experience such serenity in a dream of all places. After so many years, it was the only time he felt calm, his mind clear of any unnecessary thoughts. And to add to that, he was accompanied by Ouma Kokichi, probably the most unruly person he knew. It was definitely an odd situation.

 

_“This is where I go when I needed to think.”_

 

He was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the other’s voice. _“Think?”_

 

_“Yep. Back then, in the game.”_

 

Saihara pondered over the new information for a while. _“I didn’t even notice.”_

 

 _“Of course you didn’t. For a detective, you’re not very observant.”_ The Supreme Leader insulted, but his voice sounded so soft that it hardly contained any bite to it. Saihara could only chuckle at him. _“I guess you’re right.”_

 

Ouma responded with a glare. _“Still a doormat, huh? I really hate you after all.”_ The purple-haired boy sighed and switched expressions in the blink of an eye, smiling up at his former classmate. _“Or not. I like you, you know.”_

 

Saihara can already feel his brows creasing as he tried to discern which part of what Ouma said was true.

 

 _“What? You don’t believe me?”_ The other asked with a serious tone.

 

 _“I--”_ His answer was cut off as he was suddenly pulled towards the ground with a force he never knew the other was capable of. Lying on the ground, his eyes widened as Ouma loomed over him, hands on both sides of his head.

 

 _“Guess I'll have to prove it to you.”_ Ouma whispered in a low voice, moving his face close to his. Saihara's brain couldn't keep up with what’s happening, rendering him stunned and speechless. His eyes shut tight as he didn't dare move a muscle.

 

Whatever it was he was waiting for never came.

 

 _“Pfft…”_ He barely heard, a signal to finally see what was going on.

 

Ouma was still above him, hand covering his mouth as he produced giggling noises. Without warning, he burst into a loud laugh, falling down beside him with his stomach clutched in his hands.

 

 _“You--you should've seen the look on your face!”_ Ouma continued to laugh boisterously, wiping away at the tears forming at this eyes. _“That was priceless!”_

 

The detective was lying if he said he didn't feel annoyed being pranked, but as he watched the other laugh, another overwhelming feeling settled in.

 

 _“Ah, damn, that was fun.”_ The other's laugh finally died down into giggles and eventually silence, giving the boy beside him a grin.

 

Saihara's hand reached out to cup the other's cheek, his thumb wiping at the traces of dampness from the earlier tears. He expected Ouma to move away anytime, but he didn't. His hand slid through the purple locks, feeling the softness as they tangled in between his fingers. Their gazes meet, and as usual, he can't get a read on what the Supreme Leader was thinking.

 

With slight hesitation, he pulled the smaller boy to him, wrapping his arms around him. Ouma still remained silent as he let him bury his face in his hair. It didn't have any scent, maybe because he was in a dream. He wondered what it will smell like if this was real.

 

 _“Don't get the wrong idea. I'm just allowing this because today is special. So you better make the most out of it.”_ Ouma finally spoke in a soft voice.

 

 _“Mm.”_ Saihara replied, tightening his embrace. Only then did he realize how small and thin Ouma was. Like he'll break if he so much as put more force into his arms. But he was warm. So warm.

 

They stayed like that for who knows, he didn't bother to count. But right then and there, time stopped. It felt infinite.

 

 _“Hey, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma suddenly called out from his chest. _“If I wasn't the one appearing in your dreams...would you still hug them like this?”_

 

The question took him by surprise, but he already knew the answer.

 

_“No.”_

 

He could feel Ouma's fingers tighten around his shirt. _“Don't lie to me.”_

 

 _“I'm not lying. It's the truth, Ouma-kun.”_ And it was.

 

The Supreme Leader was silent for a moment, before pushing Saihara away and standing up.

 

 _“Ooookaaaay! Time's almost up, Saihara-chan.”_ Ouma cheered, folding his hands behind his back.

 

Saihara followed suit despite wanting to feel nothing more than the familiar heat. _“Won't you stay?”_ He asked but it sounded more like a plea.

 

 _“Nope.”_ Ouma shook his head. _“We can't always have the things we want. That's what makes life fun, don't you think?”_

 

He quietly followed as the smaller boy sauntered over the edge of the building.

 

_“Well then, it's been fun playing with you. I guess this is goodbye.”_

 

 _“Good...bye?”_ Saihara asked.

 

 _“Mmhmm. I told you, didn't I? That this is the last time.”_ Ouma answered with his usual ominous smile on place. _“Come on, don't look so sad. Akamatsu-chan will get angry at me.”_

 

The last statement was successful in putting a smile on his face, albeit a tad strained.

 

 _“There we go. Nishishi~”_ Ouma giggled. _“Besides, you won't ever forget about me, right?”_

 

 _“How could I…when you gave me so much to remember…?”_ Saihara answered, fighting the urge to reach out and not let go. But then everything will probably be pointless.

 

 _“Then I should probably give you one last thing, just in case. Because I know you're a real forgetful one.“_ Ouma flashed him a wide smile, offering his hand to him. _“Do you trust me?”_

 

Saihara grabbed the other's smaller ones on his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Their fingers intertwined, and more than how the thinner ones fit perfectly on the gaps of his fingers, he was stunned as he looked at the boy beside him. The rays of the sunset shone behind his amethyst-colored hair, creating a beautiful mix of orange and violet. His eyes glimmered as it met his golden ones, a smile on his lips. A genuine one.

 

Then Ouma jumped, and he let himself fall along with him. His hold on the other's hand tightened as the wind hit his face violently. He could barely keep his eyes open from the fear when Ouma held his other hand mid-air, facing him with his usual mischievous expression, as if they weren't falling from the top of a building.

 

 _“Saihara-chan!”_ Ouma screamed, but the sound was still muffled down by the air pressure.

 

 _“O-ouma-kun…!”_ He replied with trembling lips.

 

 _“You know I--I knew you could do it! I knew you could end the game! I trusted you!”_ Ouma exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

 

Saihara couldn't stop the tears from falling as he tightened his grip on the two hands keeping him from crumbling apart. _“Thank you...Thank you, Ouma kun!”_ He cried out, and it probably sounded pathetic, but he just couldn't care at the moment.

 

He could faintly hear the sound of Ouma's laugh as the Supreme Leader pulled away, letting go of his hands in favor of holding his face. Saihara found himself getting lost in his deep, purple eyes as their gazes locked. The wind was cold and unforgiving, but unparalleled heat burned through his lips as Ouma closed the gap between them.

 

_“And I have always, always--”_

 

. . .

 

. .

 

.

  


His eyes slowly opened, the morning rays of the sun hitting his face perfectly. He sat up carefully, feeling extremely tired, yet light at the same time. When was the last time he felt like this? He couldn't even remember.

 

His fingers come up to his face, the tips grazing his still feverish lips which stretches into a smile.

 

_“Me too, Ouma-kun.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I thought up and had too much fun writing while commuting. Hope you enjoy though!


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